


Grit

by BadGoose



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: F/F, F/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-12 14:34:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18448562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadGoose/pseuds/BadGoose
Summary: In the rugged and rough and tumble world of the American old west, four extraordinary women begin their stories in a backwater known as Flairtown:Charlotte Flair: Has returned to Flairtown after being away for years and is forced to take up the mantel of sheriff to save her name.Sasha Banks: An infamous but 'mostly' reformed outlaw running from her demons and her past.Dr. Bayley Martinez: A brilliant but irascible physician and scientist forced to go to the edge of civilization to find a place of her own.Becky Lynch: A new arrival to America who finds out it isn't all it was built up to be.Throughout this story the Horsewomen will be joined, aided, and opposed by many another familiar face, so stay tuned!





	1. Chapter 1: Intro - Sasha

**Sasha**

 

Sasha Banks had been half dozing in the corner of the saloon for some time now.

 

It wasn't truly sleeping, not really. She remained dimly aware of the general noise and bustle around her even as she slouched in the hard wooden chair. But only dimly. The majority of her mind was many layers down, drifting among waking dreams. She’d mastered this trick as a result of many years of having to snatch sleep where and when she could. Usually, these dreams tended toward the surreal and abstract, not making much actual sense to her.

 

Today was different.

 

Today she was dreaming about the two weeks and change. A string of days that had completely destroyed her life as she’d known it.

 

The argument, the shootout, the long ride through the desert, losing her horse to a broken leg, the even longer walk, and now this. Sasha Banks was and always had a been a survivor, but even she was finding it hard to believe she’d made it out of that situation in one piece.

 

And, a small voice inside her said, whose to say she had?

 

Physically she was whole, or nearly. She’d stumbled into the town of Heyman three-quarters dead. But she’d known that if she let herself fall, she’d never get back up. So, on pure instinct and stubbornness, she’d forced her way into the saloon. All eyes had turned to her as she’d entered but she’d ignored them as she’d walked to the bar and rented a room with a silver coin that might have bought her the room.

 

That had been a week ago. During the first two days, she’d done little more than sleep. When she had finally emerged, she’d made her way back down to the bar in hopes that she might jumpstart the process of forgetting the recent past. She’d been surprised then because she’d met what might have been the only honest bartender for five states.

 

“Well, well, looks who's back with us,” the man had said dryly as he’d polished a mug. Sasha had just grunted at this as she’d leaned against the bar.

 

“Whiskey,” was all she said. The man looked at her quietly for a moment before shrugging and reaching under the bar. Sasha’s eyes had widened when she’d he’d set a whole bottle down in front of her. “What’s this?” she’d asked, suspiciously.

 

“Whiskey,” the man had answered flatly, before looking back down at this mug.

 

“I ain’t paying for a whole damn bottle mister, I just wanted a drink,” Sasha growled.

 

“Yeah, you did.”

 

“What?” Sasha asked with narrowed eyes.

 

“That coin you gave me when you stumbled in here would have bought five bottles. So the way I see it you got a tab open,” the bartender told her as she picked up another glass. Sasha blinked at this. She only barely remembered paying for the room, and in any case, wouldn’t have expected someone to be this open about what had happened. Especially since the man was cheating himself out of money.

 

“Thanks...I guess,” Sasha murmured as she reached for the bottle, only to find that the man’s hand was on it now.

 

“Whatever trouble you’re running from, just keep it out of my bar,” the man said, his eyes boring down into Sasha’s.

 

Sasha had stared definitely back as she’d wrenched the bottle from his grip. “The trouble is dead,” she said sullenly as she turned and marched off to the far corner of the saloon.

 

And there she’d been sitting for days. She’d only left the saloon itself on those rare occasions when she needed to visit the outhouse. It had only been yesterday that she’d learned the town’s name, Heyman. Not that it mattered much, she had no real plans at the moment and lots of money to keep her happy in her rented room and deep inside a bottle. The Saloon owner didn’t seem the type to ask questions and Sasha was even feeling good enough that she might ask one of the girls about their prices that evening.

 

Then life made plans for her.

 

Sasha was reliving that night two weeks ago, the night of the shoot out when the part of her that was aware of her surroundings suddenly shouted a warning. In most people, this would have brought them starting to wakefulness, probably upsetting their chair in the process. In Sasha, this merely caused her to shift slightly in her chair. A move that appeared to be no more than a sleeper adjusting her position, though in reality it subtly shifted her hat so she could sneak a surreptitious look under it.

 

What she saw made her want to roll her eyes. Two tall men had moved to stand before her table, blocking Sasha’s exit from the corner. Even over the sound of the saloon’s piano and the low buzz of talk, Sasha could hear them whispering to each other.

 

“Is it her?”

 

“Of course it is!”

 

“Should we...should we do it now?”

 

“No you dimwit, they pay more for her if she’s alive!”

 

Sasha let this go on for another few seconds before she cleared her throat. Without otherwise moving she said: “Billy and Bart Gunn, how are the worst bounty hunters in the west?”

 

There was a noticeable pause in which Sasha could see the two men’s posture stiffen. Eventually one of them, she guessed Bart, spoke up. “We heard that someone looking like Sasha Banks was holed up here in Heyman. Thought it couldn’t be, no one with your bounty would be that dumb. But lookee here,” he said, trying and failing to sound confident.

 

“Lookee here,” Sasha echoed wryly. She still hadn’t moved, at least not that the Gunn brothers could see. Under the table she’d slid her foot silently along the floor until she’d hit the table’s leg, establishing where it was in relation to her body. She then took another look under her hat to gauge just how far apart the two Gunn’s were standing.

 

“Make this easy, don’t need to scare these nice folks just out having a drink,” Billy put in. He was the younger and more impulsive of the two.

 

“Now, fellers, you should know that my bounty is in the next state over. So if you try to take me here then it’s YOU who are going to be the guilty ones. Two big strapping boys like you picking on a little girl like me, how will that look?” Sasha asked as she eased again shifted in her chair. This move easing her right hand down to her thigh.

 

“We got us a wanted poster, it’s all above board. Now get up and come with us nicely and quiet like,” Bart said, more testily now. As the older brother, he was notionally the ‘brains’ of their bounty hunting team. But that really wasn’t saying much when it came to the Gunn brothers who were famous for all the wrong reasons in law enforcement circles.

 

“You two are just set on doing this huh?” Sasha asked. Her hand still creeping down her thigh. She just needed to keep them occupied for a few more seconds.

 

“Your trapped Banks. Might as well accept it,” Billy shot at her. He sounded supremely confident which, Sasha supposed, was how most fools sounded before misfortune kicked them between the legs.

 

“Whatever will I do?” Sasha asked as she finally looked up at the two men, a tiny but wicked smile on her face. The expression was far and away more terrifying than if she’d shouted and, dim as they were, both Gunn brothers sensed their peril. Both began reaching for their holsters but it was far too late.

 

The sound of the two shots cut through the noise of the saloon like a scythe through the grass. All eyes shot toward Sasha’s corner and several patrons reached for their own weapons. But the action was already over. Both Gunn brothers were lying on the floor of the saloon.

 

They were whimpering as the clutched at their bleeding right hands.

 

In the ensuing the silence, the sound of Sasha’s chair scraping the floor as she stood and pushed it back made several onlookers wince. Snatching her bottle off the table, Sasha finished it, before putting it back down and making her way around the table. Stepping gingerly over Billy, who was weeping, she made her way to the bar.

 

“Sorry about the mess,” she told the bartender as she tossed him a few coins. She then turned to leave saying: “ALWAYS, shoot first boys,” to the Gunn brothers before stepping out onto the street.

 

It seemed she’d have to find another watering hole to hide in now. Sighing in annoyance at this inconvenience she almost ran into a man wearing a Sheriffs badge.

 

“What’s going on in there? I knew you looked like trouble!” the man said angrily, his own hand reaching for his gun. But Sasha, moving as fast a striking snake, caught his hand.

 

“Just...don’t…” she told him tiredly “...I got no desire to shoot you or any of your boys. I’m going to walk right down to that there stable, BUY me a horse, then some supplies, and I’ll be gone in less than an hour. You won’t ever see me again.”

 

“Who the hell are you? Why shouldn’t I just arrest you now? You think you can take on me and my deputies on your own?”

 

Sasha signed and rolled her eyes. Releasing the man’s wrist she looked at him sideways and said: “My name is Sasha Banks.”

 

She rode out of town unmolested about forty minutes later. She’d had a stilted conversation with the general store clerk, the man had been shaking the whole time she’d been in the shop, that had given her a new destination.

 

If she wanted to hide from the world, then she’d better go to the middle of nowhere. Someplace the rest of the world had forgotten about. The American West was huge, but such places were dwindling with each passing year. Still, if the clerk was correct, it seemed she was in luck and there was a good candidate only a few days ride to the north.

 

“Flairtown it is,” she muttered as she kicked her horse into a gallop.


	2. Chapter 2: Intro - Bayley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Bayley Martinez finds herself at an impasse in her life and must choose a new path for herself.

**Bayley**

  


_“Ma jambe! Ma jambe! S'il te plaît sauve ma jambe!”_ the man gasped. In the sputtering light of the two lanterns in the tent, his face still looked deathly pale.

 

“ _Paix, mon ami. Je vais essayer,”_ Bayley Martinez said as she motioned to her assistants to ensure the man was securely strapped down to the table. After satisfying herself on this point, Bayley took her saw from beside the table and grimaced. Switching to German she called out to her assistant.

 

“ _Hans! Hans! Bring me one of my other saws, quickly now! One of the clean ones!”_ she snapped in disgust. Bayley and her colleagues had been working since the afternoon to tend to all the wounded men streaming in after the day’s battle. Yet, no matter how many men they saw, they never seemed to make any headway.

 

If she’d had the spare time to reflect on the matter it might have struck Bayley as absurd that she was in France at all. She, the daughter of a sailor and born in Mexico, was performing field surgeries in Europe. But she had no such time. Right now she was concerned for her patient and what she could do for him. And try though she might, she simply couldn’t beat it into the thick heads of her assistants that she’d always had the best results with clean instruments.

 

Taking advantage of the short pause she turned back to the soldier and said: “ _Boire, mon ami.”_ As she did so, she offered him a bottle of fine brandy that, by all rights, she shouldn’t have had. The soldier nodded his gratitude and proceeded to drain to huge gulps of the amber liquid from the bottle before Bayley gently took it from him. She then offered him a chunk of leather which, without needing to be told, he clamped between his teeth.

 

A moment later Hans arrived with Bayley’s clean saw. And the amputation began. All things considered, the man showed remarkable fortitude. He uttered hardly a sound from beginning to end and it was only as she was sewing off the flap of skin just below his knee that someone finally spoke in a loud voice.

 

“What is that bloody nurse doing operating on patients?” it demanded. Knowing that the speaker could only be referring to her, Bayley rolled her eyes but continued with her work. It was only when the voice spoke up again, this time directly behind her, that she finally turned around.

 

“Madame!” the man boomed down at her “I must insist that you leave immediately. A field surgery is no place for a woman!”

 

“And I must insist that YOU leave SIR. Your manner is offensive. I am a doctor of medicine and I will not have you interfering with my work!” Bayley shot back. They were speaking in English now, the man’s accent making clear that he was British.

 

“A doctor?” the man asked incredulously, as though he’d never heard the title before.

 

“Yes, sir, a DOCTOR. Now you are disturbing my patient and I insist that you leave,”

 

The man spluttered for several moments before finding his voice again and saying: “I will NOT be spoken to in such a way by-” But before he could continue, another voice called out.

 

“What is the meaning of this shouting?!” it demanded. Looking over the first man’s shoulder, Bayley saw the burly figured of Lieutenant Colonel David Smith pushing into the tent. He was the man in charge of the Anglo-American volunteer ambulance tending to both German and French sick and wounded.

 

“Sir…” the man who had interrupted Bayley shot upright, he was obviously a soldier “...this...NURSE had the effrontery to-”

 

But Smith overrode him by speaking to Bayley direction asking: “Dr. Martinez, is this man disturbing you?”

 

“He is indeed,” Bayley said huffily as she turned back to her work.

 

“But-” the man started to say but he was once again interrupted.

 

“Lieutenant, leave the tent immediately,” Smith snapped. The Lieutenant looked from Smith and back to Bayley with an expression of mixed confusion and embarrassment on his face.

 

“This is NOT over, I will teach you the proper respect-” he began to snarl at Bayley before his words died in his throat. If he’d thought he might save some face with a parting shot he’d badly miscalculated. In a flash, he suddenly found a sword tip at his neck.

 

“LEAVE, SIR!” Bayley demanded. It wasn’t usual for surgeons to be armed but Bayley knew that even surgeries could occasionally be attacked and she would not be helpless should such an event arise.

 

“I’d be quick about it if I were you, Lieutenant,” Smith said sternly, though Bayley caught the note of amusement in his deep voice.

 

“ _Chienne!”_ the Lieutenant growled as he stepped back slowly from the blade and spun on his heel.

 

 _“Est-ce la célèbre courtoisie d'un officier britannique?”_ Bayley shot after him wryly.

 

An hour or so later, when she’d finally seen to the last of her wounded men, Bayley was sitting outside the tent trying to catch her breath. She and the rest of the ambulance were there as volunteers and were making no distinction between French and Prussian wounded. But this doubled their workload. She was exhausted and yet she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep just yet. So she was struggling to light her pipe as she swore in several languages.

 

“Hardly the language that will get you presented at court,” a familiar voice said from behind her.

 

Without looking up from what she was doing, Bayley said: “Damn your court and damn your queen.”

 

Smith chuckled as he sat down next to her. They were sitting on the edge of a hill and watching the sunset over the French countryside. The view was truly beautiful, almost beautiful enough to make one forget of the horrors occurring just a few miles away. They were silent for a few moments as Bayley continued to wrestle with her pipe until Smith took it from her.

 

“You do make a damned mess of things you know that?” he laughed as he promptly lit the pipe.

 

“I was just getting it thank you,” Bayley muttered as she inhaled deeply from the stem.

 

“Of course...madame,” Smith said with a slight smile that almost made Bayley relent.

 

“Who was the damned fool in the tent?” she asked eventually.

 

“Lieutenant Graves? Part of the escort, quite the dashing cavalryman from what I hear, and the son of a baron at that. He’d make quite the match for any eligible young lady,” Smith teased.

 

“You are a wretched man David Smith,” Bayley said as she continued to look at the sunset. There was another long pause.

 

“This war will be over soon, it won’t be long before the Prussians capture Paris. I’m sure we’ll have work to do afterward but eventually, we’ll all have to go home,” Smith said. Bayley didn’t respond, she knew full well where this conversation was going as they’d had it several times before now.

 

“Good, no more maimed boys for the ambitions of old men,” she said.

 

“Here, here, BUT…” Smith said “...I wonder what YOU will do when it’s all over?”

 

Bayley sighed inwardly. She liked Smith a great deal, and she was aware she owed him even more. There were few men anywhere who would take a chance on a female doctor as part of their medical service and he had. But he also had an unengaged son, also named David, that he seemed to think Bayley would very much enjoy. Bayley had never met the son but she did know that marriage was far from the top of her list of priorities.

 

“You know I can’t go to England, I’ll never be allowed to set up a practice there,” she said quietly as she blew smoke into the air. She’d expected Smith to try to persuade her otherwise, but he was an honest and intelligent man. He knew the truth of her words. But then he surprised her.

 

“Whatever happens with David, I want you to know that you’ve long since earned my respect Martinez. Should ever need anything, or just happen to be in England I do hope you’ll call on me,” he said gently.

 

Bayley was touched by his words, unexpected though they were. As positively disposed toward Smith as she was personally, she hadn’t expected him to feel the same. She always thought she was merely a useful tool for him.

 

“Thank you, sir,” she said, at a loss for anything else to say.

 

“I think David will do between us Martinez.”

 

“Then it ought to be 'Bayley' for you then, David,” Bayley said with a small smile.

 

“Did you make good use of the brandy that vanished from my tent this morning?”

 

Rather than look abashed Bayley just shrugged as she said: “I hope so, with God's blessing many of those men will live.”

 

“Then it was brandy well spent…” Smith said cheerily before falling silent. Eventually, he asked: “But what WILL you do?”

 

Bayley had no good answer to this. She’d already accomplished minor miracles in her life by not only securing an education but her medical certificates as well, though it had required her to leave home to get them. But qualified or not, her opportunities would still be rare as a woman...if not entirely absent.

 

She could probably stay with Smith in some other capacity than just a daughter in law. Or maybe join a European navy as a surgeon. But neither really appealed to her. No, what Bayley Martinez most wanted was to have her own practice and to be recognized for her contributions not as a woman but as a scientist and doctor.

 

“Perhaps…” she said before trailing off.

 

“Perhaps?” Smith prompted.

 

“Perhaps it’s time for me to go back to a new world,” Bayley finished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We continue our slow build toward the day when we can all put on our cowboy hats and spurs to head out to Flairtown.
> 
> I can't overstate how excited I am about this project my friends, it's going to be a TON of fun! Just make sure to catch up on the character info now AND...get that bookmark down early so you never miss anything!
> 
> What did everyone think of this characterization of Bayley? We're hoping to try a brand new take on her character!
> 
> Thanks so much for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> So, we're finally here my friends! Yes indeed, the great 'what will come after' to Perseverance.
> 
> BadGoose and I have thoroughly enjoyed the process of collaboration and it seemed a shame to put the team on the shelf after just one effort so here we are. Grit will be a markedly different setting (obviously) but if I think I can safely guarantee that if you like Perseverance, you'll like this story as well. 
> 
> Your feedback and your interactions really help keep us both driving forward, you are all indispensable. So if you're liking what you read please consider bookmarking the story so you don't miss anything. Kudos are also great but comments? Très Magnifique!
> 
> Expect regular updates to this story as it progresses and, who knows? Maybe a special chapter or two?
> 
> Thank you so much for taking the time to join us on this new adventure!
> 
> AttackPlatypus and BadGoose


End file.
